


Tsuyu

by arienai



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arienai/pseuds/arienai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raidou the 14th and Kyouji the 1st  and their final confrontation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tsuyu

Rain thundered off the sides of the heat-scored sheet metal roofs and warped plastic awnings of every roughshod, ramshackle, piece of shit shack the summoner passed, drowning the clack of his wooden sandals on the concrete. 

"--asha, da--sha..." Kyouji hummed to himself as he strode. Soaked to the skin, his yukata hung like a ship's sail shredded by the storm, draping limply from the mast. 

Goddamn brat was late. Probably didn't want to get his pretty hair wet.

Well far be it from him to wait out in the rain like a jackass. Kyouji slipped into the next covered stand he saw, wafting the twin scents of burnt yakitori and cheap cigarettes out into the misty downpour. The stools were all full on account of the shitty weather, so he pawed a drunk salaryman out of his seat and gave him a shove out onto the road. A screech of tires, the kind of cursing a schoolboy use on his old man, but no crash. 

Kyouji shrugged out of his damp clothing and tossed it over the bar. "Whatever you've got on tap."

"S-sir, you can't..." The aging vendor took one look at his bare shoulders, then another at the gun belted to his waist, then shut his wrinkled trap.

The place emptied in a hurry. Good. Kyouji liked to drink in peace. He fished a still-lit, unfinished cigarette in the ashtray and smoked in peace, too.

The static hiss of a rusted radio that had probably seen this district before _both_ fires murmured along with the roar of the rain: _\--authorities are still uncertain as to the cause of this afternoon's sudden building collapse in Fukagawa-cho, Senju-ku, but the number of causalities has risen to 61. Among them prominent CEO Reiji Kadokura and his wife, as well as children from a nearby middle school--_

The vendor puttered about nervously, doing his best to disappear into the dripping canvas walls of the stand. "H... how is everything?" He squawked like a strangled chicken.

Kyouji barked a laugh. "Like you washed your balls in it."

The old man suddenly found some urgent business to attend to outside the shop and scurried off; the summoner drummed his fingers along the bar. _Yoi-sha, yo-sha, ya-sha, da-shaa..._ Damn rain must be keeping him. 

A while later the flaps fluttered with evening-chilled air as a sodden boy stumbled in and took a seat as far away from the summoner as he could, shivering. His school uniform was torn to scraps and soot-stained, and he reeked like ash and blood. No tear streaks, though; the boy's mouth was set in a hard line that never faltered.

"They won't believe me," the boy muttered as if he expected Kyouji to care. "Demons did it. But they won't believe me."

Kyouji snorted. "No one will believe you, moron. They don't know their heads from their asses."

The boy stared at the summoner, eyes growing wider and rounder, until he could see the whites of them. Lips tight, severe. He knew.

Well, Kyouji had time kill. He flicked his cigarette back into the tray, long since burned down past the filter, and rounded on him, appraising. "You can see demons, boy?"

* * *

Night fell before the rain let up, and Kyouji noted with satisfaction that the other summoner was thoroughly drenched when he finally arrived. He flung his still-damp yukata back over his shoulders and belted it loosely when he heard familiar clipped footfalls on the sidewalk behind him, lest the brat discover what a man's body looked like.

Still as pasty-faced and scrawny as ever. Only he'd traded in the schoolclothes for a long overcoat and fedora; the one presumably to hide his weapons, the other hide his girly hair. Black collar, black tie - as grave the expression he wore.

"You're _late_ , Raidou." Kyouji sauntered out and stopped just short of the other man, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to jostle him. 

"You could wait." The brat responded tersely, and removed Kyouji's hand. He was strong enough to do it, too, damn it all. And tall enough to look down when he spoke. "This is too far. I'll not have--"

" _Yatagarasu_ decides that, last I recall. Not you." Kyouji snarled. He was close enough to smell him; he smelled like burnt insulation and powdered drywall. Rain must be why he couldn't see it on his clothing. "And she sends me on the jobs you don't have the stomach for, princess." 

Those pretty, long-lashed eyes narrowed. "That ends tonight."

Kyouji snorted, lips twisted in a mocking grin. "And just what are you gonna' do about it? Think of all your precious _rules_."

The brat straightened - hell, he had to tip his head down, from his full height, to look Kyouji in the face - and reached beneath his coat. "We have irreconcilable differences, Kyouji the First. As Raidou, I challenge you to a duel to resolve them..."

He looked just like _him_ , in the thickening dark. All pinched and proud and ready to die for his principles. Time changes everything and nothing at all; Kyouji spared a nod for the soft black shape at the other summoner's feet.

"...I've heard," Raidou went on softly, fiercely, "That sometimes, regrettably, summoners lose their lives in these battles."

And Kyouji roared with laughter, drowning out the rain.

* * *

It was done. All that was left was the grim task of gathering up those things that bore returning to Shinoda. Between the sword and the steel drum, it was almost too much for Raidou to carry. 

Blame it on the puddles that sloshed under his feet, or the blinding torrents that still streamed down his face - for his vision swam and his knees gave out. Raidou lost his grip on all of it in favour of putting his hands down to stop himself from utter collapse. 

The single streetlight and the waiting car with the waiting detective inside it were impossibly far away, where Raidou'd ordered him to stay until it was finished.

While Raidou struggled to recollect all the pieces a boy - he could scarcely make out more than the uniform in the dark - circled him silently, found the gun that had slipped from his grasp and skidded down the wet pavement. 

He stood there, hair plastered to his face, turning it over in his hands while Raidou struggled to rise.

"Who...?" Was all Raidou had the breath the voice above the deluge.

"He told me to tell you..." The boy trailed off in midsentence as he   
belted the gun around his hips, then shrugged the sword over his shoulder so that he could help Raidou to his feet. 

"My name is Kyouji."


End file.
